


for when i look at you

by cosmicrhetoric



Series: New York, New York [5]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/F, Office AU, oops i did it again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-06-04 19:54:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15154451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicrhetoric/pseuds/cosmicrhetoric
Summary: Elide Lochan already had her slew of problems in life: an ex-friend turned boss, an ex-boyfriend turned conspirator, a general dissatisfaction with life, oh, and Manon Blackbeak, the CEO of a rival company who was insisting on being as uncharacteristically nice to her as possible.She didn't need anything else on her plate.





	1. Part 1: Heels and Deals: the Manon Blackbeak story

**Author's Note:**

> i busted this out in one night so like, be gentle  
> part 2 is half written i think it'll be up by this week. anyway i missed malide and im glad to be back  
> i will write a lengthy note of thank u's on the second one when im not dead and dehydrated anyway love yall

“I am lucky to have this job,” said Elide to her reflection. She straightened her blazer, checked her hair, and completed what had become a daily ritual. “I am lucky to have this job. It has dental and I cannot afford to miss rent this month.”

She couldn’t afford to miss rent any month, really. Her slightly distorted reflection in the cheap garage sale mirror looked sadder than Elide felt, if that was possible. Turning away, she glanced at the clock on her bedside table—ten minutes until she really had to go. Elide smoothed down her hair, so thick it struggled under the hundred U-pins she had shoved directly into her scalp, and grabbed her platforms. Normal heels were impossible, considering her bum ankle, but the Havilliard & Havilliard dress code was stuck in the 70’s, and insisted all female employees come dressed in more than business casual: i.e. heels.

Elide had more leeway with all things H&H. She was secretary to the CEO and a close friend, once upon a time. Dorian was a sweet guy a few years ahead of her at UPenn, and an amicable ex-boyfriend of her cousin Aelin’s. She helped him with his math, and he did his best to broaden her social circle and get her to stop slacking in her communications courses. They lost touch when he went on to business school, but found each other through Aelin years later, after both moving back to New York.

That was three years ago, and it was a very bad time for Elide back then. She had just graduated with a chemistry degree, but there were no jobs for a non-specialized science bachelor’s degree, and she couldn’t pay for a PHD program with no job.

Dorian heard her plight from either Aelin or Aedion, and cornered her at Aelin’s birthday party, a Cosmo in each hand.

“I hear you’re looking for a job?” he asked.

Elide brushed some glitter off his jacket, but to no avail. That was just how Aelin’s birthday parties normally rolled. “I don’t suppose _you_ know any research scientists looking to take on an inexperienced graduate.”

“No,” he admitted. “But I can get you a job at H&H,”

She sucked in her cheeks. Inheriting a million-dollar company the second he turned twenty-five wasn’t Dorian’s fault, but she hated nepotism. The only thing she inherited from Cal and Marion Lochan was a bad complexion and a possibility of heart disease. “I don’t think there’s any room for me in an insurance company.”

“Yeah, but you know my PA is on maternity leave for the next five months, and I could really use someone who already knows me and what I hate…” Dorian trailed off at the expression on her face. “Babe, I’m not handing you this job. You’re technically qualified with that communications minor. And I know you’re organized and dedicated, and—”

“And Aelin also told you I haven’t been able to pay my power bill in two months.” snapped Elide. She knew what a handout felt like.

Dorian’s eyes widened—he, evidentially, didn’t know that. “Elide. Please. I’m not asking for your sake, but mine. Rosamund was the only person I could talk to in the office and now she’s _gone_.”

She wasn’t buying it, even with a crushing sense of student debt looming over her. In the end, Elide sold out. She accepted the second Dorian told her the starting salary.

But five months turned into ten, when Rosamund decided being a stay at home mom was a blessing. Elide, who had made the mistake of firmly insisting Dorian treat her like any other employee, could see why she was in no rush to come back.

He wasn’t a bad employer. He actually knew his employee’s names, and he cared about benefits, but Dorian was just as ridiculous a CEO as he was a slightly high college senior. If Elide didn’t schedule his hair and nails appointments at his regular time with his regular salon and regular stylist, he’d pout for weeks. If she didn’t arrange the dogwalker to bring by his puppy at least once a day (twice on Wednesdays), she’d get a stony silence. Maybe even a slammed door.

Somewhere along the line, they stopped being friends. After three years, Elide was without a doubt the best goddamn assistant Dorian had ever had, but they weren’t friends. And she didn’t know if that tear in their relationship could be fixed, ever.

But Elide didn’t have time to mourn. She was expected to arrive five minutes before the CEO every day. Thankfully, she lived close enough to the subway to fast walk her way there and take the horrible 7:30 car of businessmen all also going to Wall Street. It was probably the most depressing ride on the line.

Heels, bag, hair, thought Elide as she shoved her feet into the platforms. Her left ankle gave a protesting groan despite her brace, and Elide knew she was past due for a new one. At least they were only two inch heels. There was that leeway.

She found a seat on the subway at least, which meant her feet could rest, but also meant she’d have to Battle Royale her way out of the doors when they reached her stop. Used to this by now, Elide jammed and shouldered her way out, football style, all the way up the escalator and out into the sunlight.

Wall Street was buzzing, but comfortably, as it always was this time in the morning. It was just a minute long walk to the building H&H shared with about a dozen other high power insurance firms. Elide, on the sidewalk, gave her hair a final smooth over, taking a deep breath. She needed to compose herself before she went in there.

A dark car, sleekly fishtailing its way through traffic, pulled up to the curb and dangerously skid to a stop directly in front of Elide, nearly on the curb she was standing on. Biting back a shriek, Elide stumbled back and caught her bad leg’s heel on a crack in the sidewalk, causing her to fall backwards on her ass.

She closed her eyes against the throb of her ankle, a volcano against the pain of her scraped alms and sore butt. But when Elide could stand to open them, the sight was almost worse than the fall.

Her shoes. Her _shoes_ , her reasonably priced and comfortable heels, the only ones in existence, splatted with black mud that trailed up to her shins. Her left heel had broken.

Elide felt tears welling up that had nothing to do with the actual serious pain she was in.

The car door swung open, and Elide looked up, a spark of anger igniting. She was gonna _destroy_ them. She was going to verbally eviscerate whoever the dick was who thought it was cool to go from 70 mph to a complete stop.

In a twist of fate that made Elide’s mouth twist bitterly, the first thing she saw were the heels. A pair of expensive, spiked, red bottomed shoes stepped out of the car, followed by the longest damn legs Elide had ever seen in her life.

Her mouth went dry. Not just because this was the hottest she had ever seen a pantsuit look, but because the woman who stepped out of the car was Manon Blackbeak, CEO of Ironteeth Insurance, H&H’s biggest rival.

But, well, mostly the pantsuit.

Elide needed to get out of there immediately. Havilliard & Havilliard employees were _not_ to see/listen/speak to anyone from Ironteeth. It was practically in the contract. She tried leveraging herself up, but her ankle just wasn’t up for it yet. Elide bit her lip hard against the pain, nearly drawing blood—she was just trying to avoid looking up at Blackbeak’s face.

Unfortunately, she was too gay and had too little self-preservation to hold true to that. Manon Blackbeak had the bone structure of a model and the figure to match. And she wasn’t even wearing makeup.

Seeing her there, sprawled on the sidewalk with a broken heel, made Blackbeak raise a dyed, perfectly tweezed eyebrow. Her whole head was dyed a silver blonde, something that was equally too edgy for Elide’s taste and still stupid hot. The silver chignon it was all tucked into looked like a posh, blue-blooded version of Elide’s Instagram tutorial bun.

Blackbeak leaned back into the car. “Sorrel, please slow down faster. We might break something.”

Despite the silky voice, Elide bristled. Break something? _Break_ —she was _fine_ , but they _did_ break something. She took a moment to mourn the loss of her perfect shoes.

“Are you hurt?”

It took a moment for Elide to realize Blackbeak was addressing her this time. “N-no.” she said, wishing it came across as tougher. She threw in an annoyed glare.

Blackbeak’s eyebrow only lifted higher as her gaze swept from Elide’s eyes down to her ankle brace and mud stained, broken shoes. She reached down, gripping Elide by the elbows, and pulled her to her feet. Unfortunately, the second those silver ringed hands left go of Elide, the bum ankle immediately buckled.

Elide was caught a second time, before she could fall. Manon Blackbeak gripped her waist tightly with one hand and her shoulder with another.

“You _are_ hurt.”

“No,” insisted Elide, a little dizzy. Blackbeak smelled like really expensive cologne. “I’m fine. I just—”

She was practically lifted off the ground, just an inch, and deposited on the criminally soft leather seats of the car that had nearly maimed her. Blackbeak, who was surprisingly strong, knelt to inspect Elide’s ankle.

 _No!,_ screamed Elide’s brain. She gripped the car door handle tightly. “I—”

Manon looked up at her, long fingers just barely grazing the brace. Some mud had transferred to her hands. “A new injury?”

“No,” said Elide again, hating her chest for sharply contracting the second she looked down. “Very old. It’s fine, but my shoes…it was just my shoes.”

That got her a very crisp nod. Blackbeak looked past Elide to the driver of the car. “Sorrel.”

In a second, a warm and moist toilette was deposited into Elide’s hands. Dumbfounded, she stared at it and at the glove compartment it had come from. What kind of crazy, rich—

Blackbeak took the hand towel from her and began thoroughly cleaning the black mud off Elide’s legs. She slipped the broken heels off and carelessly tossed them to the pavement.

“Oh my god,” said Elide, horrified, because the CEO of Ironteeth was kneeling on the street, gently wiping mud off her shins. She’d have jerked her legs back, but because of the car she had nowhere to go. “Jesus. Okay. You don’t…don’t have to do that, I can manage.”

She reached down to either grab the towel or do something, because her brain was hyperfocusing on the feeling of human touch on her skin accompanied with a warm towel.

God, Elide needed to get out more.

Blackbeak caught her hand almost lazily, without looking up at her. She kept going with the towel. “This is our fault, isn’t it?”

Elide had too much righteousness to disagree. “Well, yes, but I’d settle for an apology.”

She was _mortified_. Blackbeak looked up, pausing in her cleaning, and held her gaze. “I do not generally apologize.”

She had nothing to say to that, partly because now Blackbeak was maintaining eye contact as she slowly wiped down her ankle, and partly because her words were honestly flummoxing. What was this if not an apology?

“Hold this,” said Blackbeak, handing her the towel. Elide took it and looked down. Her legs were clean. Blackbeak leaned over Elide’s lap to the seat compartment on the front seat and removed a sleek black bag, makeup sized. She unzipped it and pulled out two black ballet flats, matte black. “These might be a bit big, but I believe they will do.”

“You don’t have to—” Elide started immediately, but Blackbeak shut her down with a sharp look. “I can get my own damn shoes. “

“I’m sure,” said Blackbeak dryly, slipping her braced foot gently into the flat. It fit. Elide bit her lip again, this time in frustration. “Try standing.”

She obliged, Blackbeak standing with her, a hand hovering near her waist in case she fell again. The ankle held. Elide saw a small patch of dark against the knee of Blackbeak’s expensive pantsuit, from where she had knelt on the sidewalk. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Blackbeak waved it off. “I have a tailor in my office. You can walk?”

She stepped over the curb, and while the ankle was still twinging, it felt so much better in flats. “Yes, I can.”

“Good.” Blackbeak leaned over again, just to slam the car door shut. The car and Sorrel pealed away immediately.

“Well, good day,” said Elide stiffly, incredibly unsure of what to feel at the moment. She started walking towards her building without hearing what Blackbeak had to say and clutched her bag to her chest. She needed to get away from that woman as soon as possible.

* * *

 

Upstairs, Elide quickly set her desk in order and confirmed Dorian’s appointments. There was enough work, thankfully, that she could keep from thinking of Manon Blackbeak’s long hands, probably sequestered in some dark office two floors above them.

She was saved, at least, by the arrival of her boss. Dorian walked in, looking more like an Armani model than a young and successful CEO of a fortune-500 company. He greeted everyone in the office with his trademark shining smile, brighter than ever, and it didn’t dim when he got to Elide.

Elide stood up, smiling thinly. “Morning.”

“Good morning!” His gaze, because Dorian Havilliard had an eye for details, dropped immediately to her flat incased feet. The smile dropped.

“Bad ankle day,” said Elide quickly. Dorian looked back up at her, concerned. Inwardly, she swore. That was an excuse she could only use a couple times a month.

“Are you alright?” he asked, coming closer, laying a hand on her elbow.

The dumbass part of Elide that still categorized Dorian as a close friend melted. The rest of her smiled in a work appropriate manner. “Yes, of course. By the way, the AGM rep left a few messages for you, I think he’s rescheduling next Friday’s conference.”

Dorian obligingly fell back into work mode. “God, that man would reschedule his own funeral. Tell him I’m not free any other time.”

“Gotcha.” Elide heading back around her desk to sit down.

“Oh, and cancel my lunch order,” he called. “Aelin’s coming by around one.”

Elide jolted up, halfway through dialing the AGM rep’s number. Aelin? As much as she loved her cousin, really and truly loved her, she didn’t like family seeing her in this job. It put them in a weird position. Aelin was one of Dorian’s best friends. They took ‘amicable break-up’ to a whole new level. She didn’t want to be seen as someone who just got Dorian’s lunch by Aelin.

“No problem,” she said, but Dorian’s door was already closed.

* * *

 

Her mid-day snack break took her to the overpriced vending machine on the seventh floor. It sold potato chips for like three dollars, but desperate measures.

However, because this whole day was really working for her, the chips got stuck halfway to the chute, pressed up against the glass. Elide saw red. She slapped the glass, hard, dislodging the bag by a half-inch.

“Motherfucking _shit_ ,” she hissed under her breath, giving the machine another vicious slap.

“Yikes,” said a dude directly behind her.

Elide braced a hand on the vending machine, frustration mounting. She knew that voice. “This is ironic, isn’t it?”

“Just a bit,” said Lorcan Salvaterre, Elide’s own amicable ex. They met just like this, with Elide having vending machine problems, almost a year ago. “I’d have thought you’d learn by now.”

“Never.” She stepped back, regarding him. Lorcan looked good, but he always did. He was one of those guys who lived at the gym and never ate meals that didn’t have 30 grams of protein in them. And even though suits weren’t his best look, the Elide of last year had been sufficiently charmed by his good looks and surprisingly intense interest in her.

Now, she knew better. Lorcan was probably the biggest dumbass she ever met, but that was the sort of thing that only got good after the breakup.

He gave the machine a shoulder surge, a much more powerful one than Elide could have managed, and the bag of potato chips fell neatly into the slot. Lorcan swooped down and handed them to her with a flourish, grinning.

Elide smiled too. He looked super dumb. “Thanks.”

“No problem. What’s with the angry eyes, by the way? Havilliard have you go on another Dolce & Gabbana run?”

She pressed her lips together because yeah, that one actually happened. “No. Just a rough morning. You look positively sunny, though.”

Lorcan gave her another bright smile. He hardly ever smiled when they were seeing each other, but that was mostly because he worked at Ironteeth, and they sucked company morale out of a person daily. “You know, I think the boss was in a good mood today. She’s normally…”

Elide didn’t hear the rest of the that sentence, because she just put together that every time Lorcan had mentioned his boss in their time together, he was actually talking about the woman who knelt in the street for her this morning. She flushed, despite herself.

He noticed. “E, you good? You look a little sick.”

 _Ah,_ thought Elide, _thank god Lorcan’s never seen me actually blush_. “Yeah. I just should get back.”

“Oh, of course,” he said. “We’ll catch up soon? Get dinner?”

She gave him a look, one that clearly conveyed that any hopes of rekindling a relationship were an awful idea that she would not stand for. Lorcan looked appropriately disgusted by the accusation, and that made her secure enough to say yes.

By the time Elide got upstairs, she was accosted by loud laughter she knew to be her cousin’s. Also, her cousin’s puppy’s leash was tied neatly around Elide’s desk chair.

She sighed, kneeling to face a horribly excited Fleetfoot in the face. The dog had been a present from Dorian some years ago, and Aelin loved him more than anyone, probably. She scooped him up, briefly patting his head, and hipchecked Dorian’s door open. Regular assistant rules didn’t apply when Aelin was in the house.

“I believe this belongs to you?” said Elide dryly, giving Fleetfoot a little shake. She knew the dog was a good sport about it.

Aelin whipped around her seat on Dorian’s desk. She was genuinely radiant, with close cropped blonde hair and eyes that literally lit up the room. They only got brighter seeing Elide.

“Elide!” cried Aelin, hopping off the desk and yanking Elide, Fleetfoot and all, into a tight hug.

The puppy was trying to wriggle out of her arms, but she did her best hugging Aelin back. “Hey, Cousin A.”

Aelin planted a big kiss on her forehead, and a smaller on Fleetfoot’s head. “Honey, it’s been so long.”

“I know.” Elide smiled, bigger this time. She had missed Aelin. “The rest of the family okay?”

By ‘family’, Elide referred entirely to people who weren’t related to each other. While Aedion and Aelin were first cousins, Elide was simply the daughter of Aelin’s dad’s best friends, and they had grown up calling each other family.

“Just fine. You’ll join us for Sunday brunch?”

Elide shot a sidelong glance at Dorian, behind his desk. She normally came into work on Sundays. “Uh, maybe not. Sorry, Sunday is just busy.”

“Oh,” said Aelin, visibly deflated. “Well, you’ll eat with us, right?”

“Um,” said Elide, pressing her lips together. She didn’t think Dorian would be comfortable with that, and she wasn’t sure she was totally for it either. Yes, this was silly, she had eaten with Dorian several times in the office, and back in college she had seen him nearly swallow a whole burrito whole. But this was just a little…weird. “Sorry again. I actually am meeting someone else during my lunch break.”

Aelin’s eyebrow quirked up, giving Elide war flashbacks from this morning. “Hot date?”

Well, she couldn’t think of anything better. “Yeah, actually.”

“What?” asked, surprisingly, Dorian. Aelin looked delighted.

“Full details,” she said.

“Not a big deal,” said Elide, directing it at Dorian. She looked back at her cousin. “I just met someone in the building and we’re getting to know each other.”    

“Someone in the building.” Dorian was looking suspicious. “Elide, you aren’t talking about…”

“About who?” asked Elide, keeping the incredulity out of her voice somehow. There was no way he had heard about this morning, right?

“Not that Salvaterre guy, right? I always thought he wasn’t right for you.”

“That’s sweet, but no, not him,” Elide bit back her relief. “God, no. We’re done with.”

“Well, good,” said Aelin. She smiled. “You have fun, okay?”

Elide nodded, and handed Fleetfoot off. “Have a good lunch. I already ordered, it’ll be here in like, ten minutes.”

Aelin turned to Dorian. “You work her way too hard.”

She didn’t get to hear his response because she backed out the room as fast as possible. A hot date? Seriously? Now she’d have to go to a nice place and eat by herself, because Dorian was Mr. Details and he’d pick out a lie regarding where and what she ate immediately.

It was interesting that he was so concerned about Lorcan, though. Elide sat at her desk for a moment, idly searching for low priced fancy restaurants in the area. He hadn’t seemed to show that kind of concern when they were actually dating.

Then again, Dorian had been preoccupied back then. Elide called this time last year the Dark Age of Kaltain.

* * *

 

She chose a deli down the street, completely foregoing the fancy dining thing. Sometimes a girl just really wanted a deli pickle. Also, the guys behind the counter knew her really well. Elide was famous around the Wall Street eatery scene as the girl who sprinted in five minutes before close because her boss needed pho/a BLT/an avocado burrito immediately.

Somehow, they still liked her.

But as Elide was ordering her usual sandwich, a familiar car cruised around the corner at a much more acceptable speed. She trailed off, watching the car pull up by her office building. Not a few seconds later, Manon Blackbeak exited the building, a stunning blonde on her arm. She had let her long silver hair down, and something about the way it framed her perfect cheekbones made her look younger.

The pantsuit, Elide realized with a jolt, still had that very faint stain on the knee.

A cough brought her attention back to the deli man.

“God, sorry,” said Elide, shaking her head. She finished the order, and while he was wrapping it up, chanced another look back at the car.

Manon Blackbeak was staring at her.

Elide’s heart leapt to her throat in surprise. As she watched, Blackbeak made the tiniest gesture, the tiniest flutter of her fingers that _could_ have been a wave, before getting into the car.

“Miss, your _sandwich_.”

“Shit,” Elide said, blinking. “Thank you. Yes. Thanks.”

***

She went to bed very late that night, just replaying the day’s events over and over. After everything Lorcan had told her about Manon Blackbeak, Elide had been sure the woman was a complete hardass. After everything Dorian had told her, she seemed heartless.

But she had given Elide her shoes. And no matter how much she tried, Elide couldn’t forget what her cologne smelled like.

They worked in the same building, so it wasn’t difficult to assume they would run into each other again. What Elide couldn’t figure out was if she _wanted_ to see her again.

Let’s lay out the facts, she thought. She had definitely been attracted to Blackbeak this morning. Like, that wasn’t even a question. But that made her so uncomfortable she could barely say a word.

Why was she uncomfortable?

Elide knew she had a type. She normally went for people who were kind of assholes, people she could really unlace her tongue around. That’s why Lorcan was so good for a while. But Manon Blackbeak didn’t really seem to fit that. She had been sleek. In control. Not the rough underdogs Elide would normally date.

 _Not_ that she was even close to dating Manon Blackbeak. With that thought, she turned the lights in her room off. She would just have to accept that she thought a woman was physically attractive. No hidden meaning, no searching for a relationship, she had just been objectively hot. That was that.

* * *

 

When Elide entered her office the next morning, there was a long black box, laced in white ribbon, on her desk.

It wasn’t her birthday. It wasn’t a holiday. And no one around here did anything nice to her, not that there was a single other soul in this place at 6:45 a.m. Elide approached the box gingerly, touching it.

It was lined in black velvet. Elide bit her lip. The box probably cost more than her whole outfit. She lifted the lid up to find a sea of black silk.

Okay, thought Elide, digging through the scraps of silk this box was apparently filled with. When her fingers felt something smooth, something _leather_ , she stopped. An inkling, a premonition was creeping up on her. She had a huge feeling she knew what this was.

Out of this silk, Elide pulled out a beautiful pair of low heels, in patent leather, with memory foam inserts and wide ankle openings. Just looking at them made her want to cry.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, setting them down on her desk. They were the newest thing there. And they were _her size_.

There was no note, but who else could have done this? Elide swiftly packed the shoes back into the box and closed it up. If there was no one in Havilliard & Havilliard, maybe Ironteeth would be empty too. She tucked the box under her arm and headed out, taking the elevator up two floors to Ironteeth Insurance.

It was a ghost town, but as Elide suspected, one office door was open. It was the big one, in the back, with ‘CEO’ engraved on it in gold. Knowing she’d lose her nerve if she hesitated, Elide pushed through the Ironteeth glass doors and went straight for the office. She took a deep breath and knocked at the slightly ajar door.

“Come in.”

Elide steeled herself, and pushed the door open. Manon Blackbeak was at her desk, hair in a bun much messier than the one she had seen previously, shuffling through several neat folios. She looked up when Elide entered, and Elide got a heart wrenching sight of the woman in big horn-rimmed glasses.

“Hi,” said Elide, cursing herself.

Blackbeak whipped the glasses off. “Hello.”

“I, uh—” She took another deep breath. “I can’t accept this.”

Elide thrust the box outwards.

“You most certainly can.” said Blackbeak, leaning back in her chair.

“No,” said Elide, wondering what the hell happened to her supposedly sharp tongue. “I really can’t. You didn’t even hurt me yesterday. And I’ve already taken advantage of your, um, non-apology enough. I _can_ buy my own shoes.”

Blackbeak crossed her legs. “Would you like to sit?”

“I’m just dropping this off,” said Elide, adamant.

“Right,” she tucked a spare strand of silver hair behind her ear. “As for my non-apology, I see you’re wearing my shoes again.”

Elide went bright red. “Right. I just didn’t have any oth—” She cut herself off at Blackbeak’s satisfied look. “That does _not_ mean I need these! Look, Miss, uh, Miss Blackbeak…”

“Manon.”

“What?”

“My first name. Use it.”

It took a moment to compose herself. Elide dropped the box on the desk between them, bracing her hands on the stained oak. “Fine, _Manon_ , I hope you understand that I can’t accept something so expensive. I’m not the sort of person who has money to burn, as I’m sure you’ve realized, and that means I don’t take charity, especially from people who don’t owe it to me.”

Manon Blackbeak stood, fingertips pressing on the desk. Elide was suddenly aware of how much taller she was. “Would it make you feel better knowing they were on sale?”

“It would make me feel better if you didn’t lie to me,” Elide scoffed. She folded her arms. “I know good craft when I see it. You didn’t find these on a sale rack at Payless.”

The tiniest hint of a smile lit up Manon’s face. “Fair.”

“Take them back,” said Elide. She was so close to outright pleading.

“No,” said Manon, mirroring Elide’s posture. She made it look elegant. “You need shoes. The only ones you have are—”

“Yours, yes.” Elide, frustrated, bent and wrenched the flats off her feet. She slammed them on top of the velvet box.

Manon’s eyes went wide.

“There you go,” said Elide, satisfied and barefoot on the office carpet. “I’ll just be going, then.”

She turned, fully intending to march out of there, but Manon was quicker. She slammed the office door shut before Elide even got her hand on the doorknob. “Miss—”

“Elide,” shot Elide, trying to find some way around Manon to the door.

Something flashed in her eyes. “Elide,” said Manon evenly, pressing a hand against Elide’s collarbones. She pushed backwards, creating distance from the door. “You work for Havilliard. I know his standards regarding dress code.”

“Excellent, so do I,” said Elide. She also wasn’t breathing, because there was still a hand splayed out above her chest.

Manon tilted her head, just slightly. “You are exceptionally stubborn.”

“You’re very observant.” Elide seemed to realize her mistake the second she said it, but Manon was advancing on her now, pushing her back until the back of her thighs hit the oak desk.

“Is it wrong,” asked Manon quietly, because there was scarcely six inches between them now. “Is it wrong to do something kind for you?”

Elide’s fingernails dug into the desk. “You don’t know me. Why would you do this for a stranger?”

Manon was quiet for a moment. “Alright. If us being strangers is an issue, I accept that.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Manon gripped her waist and lifted her, just as she had before, just onto the desk. “Wear the shoes today. _Just_ today,” she said, seeing Elide’s protest. “You can return them to me tomorrow morning.”

Her hands were still on Elide’s waist. “Fine.”

Manon nodded, eyes flashing with what looked like triumph, and reached back to the box. To Elide’s absolute mortifications, she knelt once more, fitting Elide’s feet in the heels.

“Oh my _god_ , you seriously do not need to do that!”

“Sure,” said Manon, not stopping. When both shoes were fit properly, she stood, helping Elide off the desk. “Comfortable?”

The shoes were a _dream_. Elide shrugged. “They’re alright.”

That made her smile. “You can keep them, you know.”

“ _No,_ I can’t.” Elide looked at her sharply. “You mean it, right? You’ll take them back when I return them?”

“I suppose you wore me down,” said Manon in a tone that suggested Elide better not believe it. She escorted Elide to the door. “Well, good day.”

“Yeah,” said Elide as Manon pushed the door open.

Ironteeth Insurance had filled up in the ten minutes or so Elide had spent in Manon’s office. There were about three tired looking workers milling around, folios in hands. Among them was Lorcan, who turned at the sound of Manon’s door opening and froze at the sight of Elide.

Elide opened her mouth. Her feet were suddenly rooted to the carpet. Lorcan was looking at her like…she didn’t even know, but that was more than surprise.

“Oh,” said Manon. “Do you two know each other?”

Lorcan was opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Elide took the lead on this one. “Yes, actually, we, um, we used—”

“—to hang out,” he interrupted. “We have a few mutual friends.”

Elide kept the surprise off her face and nodded. She’d text him later to ask why he lied, but for now, she better get out of this office.

“Don’t you have work?” asked Lorcan, who was being an excellent segue.

“I do!” Elide fast walked out of Ironteeth as fast as she could, throwing a backwards wave to Lorcan.

She took the elevator back up, jittery with delayed nerves. Thankfully, these were nerves she could justify away. Manon Blackbeak had bought her a present. She had put them on a first name basis. She _lifted Elide onto a table_. No wonder Elide was a mess right now.

By the time she got to H&H, Dorian had just stepped in. He turned to see her, red faced, enter to office.

“Hot date, huh?” Dorian asked, grinning.

Elide once again realized that this was the best explanation for why she had come to work early and stolen away. “Sure.”

He reached over and ruffled her hair, something he hadn’t done since college. “I’m glad you’re having fun, El.”

“Thank you?” Elide blinked at him, half in confusion, half in surprise. This was the least boss-like he’d been in a while. Maybe Aelin had said something.

“I’d like details later, okay?” he said as he turned to his office. “Oh, and _nice_ shoes.”


	2. Part 2: Of Elide and Lorcan, Green Dresses and Drama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manon Blackbeak, club kid?  
> He slapped her on the back until she stopped sputtering. “Look, I’m just saying she takes women home a lot. And she generally doesn’t call them again. Trust me, I have to field the phone calls.”  
> Oh. Elide bit her lip, remembering that blonde woman outside the deli. “Lorcan, there’s nothing like that going on. I just met her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: this is gonna be two parts  
> also me: why not....three???

Lorcan texted her first.

              **Lorcan [11:26]: dinner tonight?**

Elide frowned. She supposed she did owe him some kind of explanation.

              **You [11:27]: Sure. We can talk then.**

**Lorcan [11:27]: I’ll make reservations. Salvatore’s?**

**You [11:27]: Pizza at my place**

**You [11:28]: I’m broke, dude, I can barely afford Papa John’s**

**Lorcan [11:30]: yikes**

**Lorcan [11:30]: see you at eight**

Dorian’s voice, calling out her name, had her put her phone away and trudge to his office. Elide leaned in to see him at his desk, tie off and at least three buttons of his shirt undone. He always got like this around noon.

“What’s up?”

He gestured her in without looking up. “I just got an invitation to the annual New York Blood Drive Charity Ball. What’s my charity status?”

Elide leaned against the door, thinking. “Well, the last time you went to anything…it was the Columbia fundraiser, and that was in May. So three months.”

He looked up at her, wincing. “I really should go, right?”

“Yeah, you should,” Elide smiled. Dorian hated social events that he didn’t himself throw with a passion. He’d spend the whole night picking apart everything from the organization to the flowers.

“Be my plus one?”

“What?” If he wasn’t taking well, a model, Elide figured he’d at least ask Aelin. “What about—”

“Aelin probably has an invite of her own, and she’s going to bring her fiancé. I guess I could take Lys, but I don’t think she’ll let me talk shit about the draperies like you will.”

Her smile grew. “Sure, I’ll come.”

Dorian clapped his hands. “Excellent! Send me your outfit choices by tonight?”

“My what?” asked Elide flatly.

“Your potential dresses. Sorry, El, but you aren’t exactly a connoisseur of modern fashion. Those shoes are really the only things going for you right now. You know what?” Dorian stood up, a mad sort of look that Elide had become very used to in school flashing in his eyes. “Why don’t I buy you a dress?”

What was it this week with rich people buying her things? Elide, alarmed, took a step back. “That’s really not necessary.”

“We’ll go together!”

“Dorian, seriously, I’m good.”

“Come _on_ , Elide.” He crossed his office to her and clasped her elbow. “You know you got shortchanged out of a Christmas bonus last year. Take advantage of this.”

Elide closed her mouth. She _did_ get shortchanged. “I will let you take me shopping,” she started, because that was really all Dorian wanted. “ _But_ , I will pay for the dress.”

“Good enough.” He declared. “Do you have anything you need to finish before we go?”

“ _Now?_ ”

“Yup.”

She sighed. “Give me fifteen to reschedule your afternoon appointments.”

“Excellent!”

* * *

 

Elide took him to Macy’s as punishment for springing this on her. Dorian took one look at the flashing red sign and grabbed her hand for support, face a mask of horror.

“ _Elide_.”

“What?” she asked innocently. “You asked where I’d like to shop.”

Dorian turned to her, eyes wide. “When I die in here, tell Chaol I love him.”

“Oh, shut up, you big baby,” she shouldered him forward. “We can find something affordable and chic here.”

He didn’t look like he believed it, but hey, neither did Elide. But, true to form, as soon as they took the three escalators to the ladies formal area, Dorian went to work. He whirled around the racks, pulling dresses and chattering to the sales lady at superhuman speeds. Elide was deposited in a dressing room and told to wait until Dorian handed her clothes.

Elide must have tried out a hundred dresses, and then re-tried on the twenty second string dresses. Finally, maybe because Elide kept refusing to go to Bergdorf’s and because he could see her eyes glazing over, Dorian picked an emerald green number, a little big for her, and let her pay the $49.95 for it.

As soon as the Macys sales rep handed her the bag, Dorian snatched it away. “If I couldn’t pay, you’ll at least let me get it tailored for you.”

“Dorian, really?”

“It’s the least you could do after dragging me here,” he said pointedly. “Come on, let’s get some food in you.”

Elide stopped. “Oh, wait, I forgot.”

“What?”

“I need to get new shoes, do you mind waiting like, ten minutes?”

Dorian looked at the heels Manon had given her incredulously. “Work heels? Those are beautiful, El.”

“They’re on loan,” she explained.

He raised a brow. “Someone loaned you four hundred dollar Vivers?”

Elide almost fell over. “ _Vivers?”_

“You didn’t know? Those are Roger Vivers, and they might actually be more. I can’t tell from the stitching. I just assumed you decided to treat yourself. Who loaned you these?”

She buried her face in her hands. “Oh my _god_.”

“Woah,” Dorian leaned down to get on eye level, looking horribly concerned. “Are you good? I—”

“I’m _fine_ ,” said Elide, lying through her teeth. “Let’s just go. Do you want Halal Guys?”

“Since we’re already slumming it,’ said Dorian, throwing an arm around her shoulder, but he still looked worried. “You know, Elide…”

“Yes?”

“…never mind. Let’s get food.”

* * *

 

Elide didn’t bother dressing up or Lorcan. She answered the door in sweatpants and a croptop from UPenn, her dark hair hanging down to her waist.

Thankfully, it was mutual. He was in gym shorts, holding a pizza.

“Oh, great,” said Elide in lieu of a hello. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek—he kissed hers—and immediately grabbed for the pie. “I’m starving.”

She carried the pie over to her coffee table and flopped down on the horribly cheap couch. Lorcan sat next to her, frowning. If scowling were a sport, he’d qualify for the Olympics.

“No way,” said Elide, popping open the lid. There was pineapple on this pizza. She grinned at Lorcan, grabbing a slice without bothering with a plate. Elide often said that there were many reasons why she and Lorcan had broken up, but whenever asked, she always said it was because he was anti-pineapple pizza. “Have I converted you?”

“I can stomach it,” said Lorcan, a small smile breaking that championship frown. He reached for a slice as well. “E, I’m gonna get to the point.”

The cheese was burning a hole on the roof of her mouth, but it wasn’t nearly as painful as this conversation was going to be. Elide swallowed.

“You were in my boss’s office today? Really early.”

“Yeah,” Elide put down her slice. For some reason, she didn’t want to tell Lorcan everything about the shoes and the mud and the car. Maybe she would have before learning how expensive the heels were. But, well, Lorcan deserved as close to the truth as she could get. “So your boss almost ran me over yesterday morning. Her car just pulled up really fast and it knocked me over.”

“That’s why you were in such a bad mood yesterday.”

She nodded. “Anyway, she was just making sure I wasn’t hurt. I ran into her yesterday, really early, and we were just talking in her office about like, my ankle and stuff. No big deal.”

He didn’t look too convinced. Lorcan had always been great at knowing when she was leaving something out.

“Wait, why didn’t you tell her we used to date?” asked Elide before he could ask anymore questions.

Lorcan’s expression only got darker. “I was just worried about you. I…okay, there’s no easy way to say this, but I’m Ms. Blackbeak’s personal assistant and I _know_ certain things about her and I just didn’t want you getting more involved than you already were.”

“Lor, that doesn’t make a ton of sense,” said Elide. He _knew_ things? “What sort of things do you mean?”

“Let’s just say she’s a bit promiscuous.”

Elide had made the mistake of trying to take another bite of pizza. At his words, she nearly choked. “Promis— _what_?”

Manon Blackbeak, club kid?

He slapped her on the back until she stopped sputtering. “Look, I’m just saying she takes women home _a lot_. And she generally doesn’t call them again. Trust me, I have to field the phone calls.”

Oh. Elide bit her lip, remembering that blonde woman outside the deli. “Lorcan, there’s nothing like that going on. I just met her.”

“I know, but if she’s interested…I don’t really know what she’d do.”

Maybe, buy four hundred-dollar shoes? Elide felt her stomach contract sharply. Was she being wooed?

This was four parts insulting and one part flattering. Yes, she was flattered that Manon ‘Gorgeous’ Blackbeak was even slightly interested in her, but she didn’t like the notion that she could be bought.

“Okay,” Elide heard herself saying. She tucked her legs up under her. “I mean, it’s not like I’ll see her again.”

“Good.” Lorcan settled back, satisfied. “Movie?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” she composed herself quickly. “I’ll put something on.”

* * *

 

Elide arrived at the office even earlier than the day before. She was wearing her new Macys heels, which were made of a shiny synthetic leather and made her toes ache. The black box with the Vivers was tucked under her arm.

No one was in Ironteeth, and the lights were off. Elide hesitated for a moment before placing the box on the ground by the door. She had a feeling Manon would be the first one in.

Back in the H&H office, Elide buried herself in work until Dorian got in. She, more than ever, didn’t want to talk.

* * *

 

She went back to the deli for lunch, because she did actually have a lot to do and she wanted something to eat at her desk.

But her luck really was awful that day, because the second Elide stepped in, she saw a silver-blonde chignon and a slender figure in a black cape coat, right by the counter.

She hadn’t seen Elide yet, so she was just going to back up out of the store the way she came—

“Miss Elide!”

Elide bit her cheek hard to keep from screaming. Right. She was a regular here. She slowly turned to face the jovial deli man, who was grinning at her, and Manon Blackbeak, who was looking at her, eyebrows raised.

“Hi,” she said, all fake cheer. “Could I just have my regular to go?”

She took a few steps closer, nodding tentatively to Manon, who was wearing elbow length gloves and dark red lipstick.

“It looked like you were just leaving,” said Manon, brushing imaginary lint off her gloves.

“I changed my mind.” Elide was trying very hard not to make eye contact.

Through her peripheral vision, she thought she saw Manon smile. “So, what’s good here?”

“Oh, you don’t—”

“Come here often?” Manon finished. She _was_ smiling! “No, I don’t. I saw you in here the other day and thought I’d try it out.”

Elide felt her mouth go dry. Her neck physically hurt from the effort it took to not turn and look at Manon. “I didn’t think deli sandwiches were your kind of thing.”

“It’s always good to try something new,” she shrugged. “And well, when you told me you couldn’t accept the shoes because we didn’t know each other, I figured I’d try to change that.”

That was it. Elide finally looked up at her, taking a step closer. “You said you’d respect my decision to return them.”

“I said I’d take them. And I did, until you feel more comfortable with them.”

Elide huffed with frustration. “I know how expensive those were! How could I accept something like that from a veritable stranger?”

Manon gestured between them and the deli counter. “And therefore…”

A new voice chimed out from behind them, calling Manon’s name. Both she and Elide turned to see that blonde woman, the pretty one, sticking her head through the door.

“Vesta’s here,” she said, shaking out her hair as if she knew how it caught the light.

Manon nodded. “I’ll be a minute.”

Elide felt as though a fist had closed around her windpipe, everything Lorcan had said last night whirling around her head. Was this one of Manon’s…paramours? She didn’t know what word to use.

The deli man handed her the sandwich, which she took gratefully. She wanted to get out of here as fast as possible, and she left without saying a word.

* * *

 

The Blood Drive Charity Ball was held in some fancy hotel on the Upper East, but for once, Elide didn’t feel out of place. Dorian’s tailor had done an amazing job with the Macys dress, but considering how much of it had changed, she was convinced he just bought her a new dress in the same colors. Elide wore her hair down that night, and was surprised to see it had grown almost past her waist.

The ride to the hotel was surprisingly companionable. She was genuinely touched that Dorian had asked her to come along, not as his employee, but as, well, as a placeholder at least. It was the first time she had dressed up in a while, and she’d get to see some family.

“You look nervous,” Dorian commented, leading her up the long steps to the hotel’s entrance.

Elide shrugged. “It’s the dress, maybe. Maybe I’m not used to nice clothes anymore.”

He snorted. “ _Nice_. Macy’s. Right.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “This is a favor to _you_ , Boss Man.”

“Yes, Elide, thank you, Elide.”

“Anyone in particular you’re avoiding tonight?” she asked. They passed the heavy looking security managers at the doors. Inside the hotel was all gilded, all champagne gold. Tall ice sculptures of swans and doves dotted the perimeter of the room.

Dorian thought for a moment. “The regular people. Ex’s. Oh, if Kaltain’s here…”

“Far away,” said Elide firmly, as the entered the ballroom. That was her real purpose here. No one knew more about Dorian’s life than she did, and she could steer him away from people he didn’t want to see. Even his best friend didn’t know all the women he’d slept with. “Gotcha.”

They spent the next hour in a firm meet-and-greet, Dorian swirling Elide around a crowd of people who all wanted to meet the very rich and very young CEO. Elide got a nod and a polite hello before their attention shifted right back to him, but she preferred it that way. The one time it mattered, Dorian introduced her as his ‘date’, which made her snort into a napkin.

Also, despite this being an expensive fundraiser, Elide couldn’t find a speck of food anywhere.

“God, I’m so tired,” she whispered to Dorian. “My cheeks are cramping up from smiling.”

He laughed. “That’s what it’s like every day for me. I have to put ice packs on my jaws at the end of the day.”

“You do _not_.”

“You would know. Oh, look! It’s Aelin.”

Aelin, dressed in the same champagne as the décor, was hurrying towards them, looking less than jovial. Elide’s smile died as she recognized the strain in her cousin’s expression.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, as soon as Aelin was close enough to hear.

Aelin gripped her arm in a greeting. “You look lovely, both of you.”

“Aelin,” started Dorian, worried.

She shook her head, running her fingers through her sleek hair. “Remelle’s here. Rowan’s ex?”

“The absolutely psychotic one?” asked Elide in alarm.

Aelin nodded. “I sent Rowan back to our’s. I don’t want her seeing him, she was practically stalking him last spring.”

“God Ace, I’m sorry.” Dorian clapped her shoulder. “Elide’s great at interference, do you want to borrow her?”

“No, you need interference more than I do tonight,” Aelin said, smiling a little. “I’ll handle it when— _if_ —it comes.”

“Good luck,” said Elide.

“Havilliard,” said a cool, crisp voice behind them.

Elide’s spine stiffened, but she forced herself to let Dorian turn her around to face Manon Blackbeak, stunning in a slip of black silk, that blonde woman on her arm.

Dorian’s smile dropped slightly, became strained. “Blackbeak. Fancy seeing you here.”

 “You as well. Galathynius, that you?”

Aelin’s mouth twisted. “Hey, Manon. Nice hair.”

“Back at you,” said Manon coolly. She inclined her head, just slightly, at Elide.

“This is my cousin,” said Aelin, throwing a tight grip over Elide’s shoulders. “Elide, this is Manon—”

“She knows who she is,” said Dorian wearily. “She couldn’t possibly work for me and not.”

That made Manon smile.

Aelin shouldered Dorian. “Either way,” she hissed lightly, “Introductions are polite.”

Manon gestured to the woman on her arm. “My half-sister, Asterin.”

 _Sister_. That fist around Elide’s throat was back, with a vengeance. She swallowed down what she thought was relief.

A moment of tight silence echoed, before Dorian cleared his throat. “This has been fun,” he said. “But El and I should make the rounds.”

There was a group murmuring of ‘of course’, and ‘we’ll see you later,’ that Elide barely caught for how fast Dorian dragged her away.

“Can’t stand her,” he muttered. “Just…just always stares at you, makes you feel weird.”

Elide smiled wryly. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“And her sister? _Jesus._ What kind of genes do that family have?”

* * *

 

Dorian finally found her some food, so Elide was holding a plate of canapes when the yelling started.

She turned around, squinting further into the ballroom. There seemed to be some sort of commotion near the buffet. Dorian, who was taller, stood on his toes to see over the crowd.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

His eyes widened in sudden alarm, and grabbing her hand, set off at a breakneck pace. Elide hurried to keep up in her heels, thrusting the plate of food at a nearby waiter.

They pushed through the crowd until Elide could identify Aelin’s voice among the yelling. She sped up until Dorian broke through the line of people surrounding what looked like Aelin and a tiny woman with lots of long brown hair brandishing a champagne glass like a knife.

He let go of her hand.

“Oh my god, that’s Remelle,” hissed Elide. She started forward, to pull Aelin away, to do _something_ , but Remelle’s voice grew even higher, and as they watched, she shattered her glass on the buffet table and brandished it at Aelin.

Elide and half the attendees cried out, and Dorian grabbed her around the middle, pulling her safely away from any debris.

“Stay,” he ordered, before heading into the fray.

“ _Stay?_ ” she cried incredulously, but he was already gone. Half the crowd watching had run to a safe distance but the other half lingered just close enough to see what was going on. Elide fisted her hands in her skirt. That was her _cousin_. She was not just going to sit here!

Manon appeared besides her, an apparition in silk. “Is that Galathynius?”

“Yes,” said Elide, teeth grit, craning her neck to see where her cousin had gone. There were too many bodies between them! She ran her hands through her hair in frustration.

Suddenly, Remelle came crashing through the crowd, stopping nearly in front of Elide. She took a few steps back, but Manon didn’t.

Still holding shards of glass, Remelle looked around wildly, eyes wide and deranged. She spun, slashing randomly. Manon stepped out of reach, almost calm.

“That’s enough, Remelle!” came Aelin’s voice, echoing over the crowd. “Take this outside.”

Elide couldn’t hear the smaller woman’s reply, it was so incoherent, but Remelle barreled out towards the sound of Aelin’s voice. Her rough exit left the buffet table rocking, the large ice sculpture shaking.

Elide surged forward, grabbing Manon’s hand and yanking her back as the ice sculpture collapsed and shattered, exactly where she had been standing.

“ _God_.” Elide said, shaking. Manon looked at the ice, and then back at her, eyes wide.

“I would have got out of that in time,” she said.

Elide dropped her hand. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t mean—” Manon stopped, and the folded her arms. “Thank you, Elide.”

She nodded, tightly, and then stepped away. “I need to find—I need to see if my cousin is okay.” She hurried away, not letting Manon respond. Right now, even the sight of her was too confusing to leave Elide in a clear mind, and she needed to be if she was going to deal with Aelin.

By the time she fought her way through to the entrance, cool air hit her the same time as the sirens. Elide slowed. Someone had called the police. There were two squad cars and one ambulance.

Had anyone been hurt? Elide started towards the EMTs when she spotted a familiar grey shirt, sitting in front of a medic.

“Oh my god, _Dorian_.”

She sprinted over, skirt hiked up to almost her knees. “Dorian? Are you okay?”

Dorian looked up at her, smiling wearily. His shirt had been torn, and he was bleeding from what looked like a crude and shallow wound on his abdomen, as well as one on his shoulder.  “ _This_ is what we get for rushing in, E. I’m alright.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said the EMT in the softest snap Elide had ever heard. She was sorting through a first aid kit with one hand and applying pressure on the chest wound with the other.

“What happened?” asked Elide, her heart rate slowly returning to normal.

“I got in between them. Stupid really, you know Aelin can handle herself. She knocked Remelle out in like, two seconds out here. I’m the only one who got hurt.”

She covered her suddenly burning eyes. “Please don’t do anything like that again.”

“Tears? For me, Elide?” despite his words, Elide could tell he was touched. Slightly.

“You wish,” she retorted. “You give me a _headache_.”

“Something you and my mother have in common,” Dorian turned to the EMT. “So, what’s the verdict? Will I live?”

The EMT, a pretty girl with brown skin and a lot of black hair tucked up into a bun looked up at him. “You will be fine. But _stay—_ ” she pushed his shoulders down as he tried to get up. “—stay here. I’m not done.”

“Uh-huh,” said Dorian, eyes going glassy.

Elide held back a snort. He was staring up that the EMT with a doe-eyed look  she hadn’t seen since he had first started pining for Aelin.

“What’s your name?” asked Dorian, almost dreamily.

The EMT shot him a quizzical look, framed by perfect lashes. “Sorscha. Can you stay still, please?”

“So, you come here often?”

“I’m gonna go home, Dorian,” interrupted Elide, grinning. She had a feeling this was going to take a while.

Dorian shook himself out of it. “El, wait, I was your ride.”

“I’ll take a cab.”

He reached for his wallet, and Soscha the EMT swatted him until he stopped. “Let me pay for it—”

“I can take her home.”

Elide’s mouth twisted. Who else?

Dorian frowned. “That’s okay, Blackbeak.”

Manon stepped up to him. “It’s alright. Your assistant helped me out back there, this is the least I can do.”

He looked at Elide. “El?”

Elide chanced a glance at Manon, but as usual, her expression was inscrutable. She looked down at her and slowly raised a brow. “Okay, I suppose. But I’m warning you, I live across town.”

“You think she knows what the price of gas is?” asked Dorian. “You think _I_ know?”

She gave him a final eye roll before following Manon down the rest of the steps. “You don’t have to do this,” said Elide, shivering.

Manon shot her a look. “I _do_ know the price of gas, and I know how much a cab would cost you. Are you cold?”

“No.”

“You are. Take my coat.”

Elide tried to protest, but the peacoat Manon threw around her shoulders was so warm and soft she couldn’t find the words. Unfortunately, the back of Manon’s dress dipped quite low, and Elide wasn’t sure how to process that either.

“Alright. Thanks.”

A valet brought Manon’s car around, and she started getting into the driver’s seat. Elide blinked.

“No driver?”

“No,” said Manon.  “You were expecting one?”

“Maybe,” Elide admitted. “I didn’t think you’d drive in those shoes.”

A wry sort of smile light up Manon’s face. “I learned how to drive in heels as a child. I figured it would come in handy. Are you going to get in, or what?”

Elide sat gingerly in the car, the seats still the softest leather she had even felt. “When you say a child, I hope you mean older than sixteen.”

Manon laughed. “I don’t think you want to know the answer to that.”

“Very true.” They pulled away from the hotel, leaving the police cars behind them. “I live on the Upper West, by the way.”

Manon nodded. “I didn’t know Galathynius was your cousin.”

“We’re not related, but we’re close. I didn’t know you knew her.”

“We were in undergrad together.”

“What?” Elide leaned forward in surprise, turning fully to face Manon. “You went to Columbia?”

“Yes,” said Manon. “We had many classes together, and that…well, that went about as well as you’d expect.”

Elide snorted. She couldn’t imagine a young Manon, but she could definitely imaging her and Aelin butting heads.

The car stopped for a red light, and Manon turned to glance at Elide. “There’s champagne in the glove compartment, if you’d like any.”

“You keep champagne in your car? Isn’t that like, illegal?” Elide remembered the warm towel, also from this glove compartment. She didn’t want to open it.

Manon shot her another look, this one so sarcastic Elide folded her arms.

“I’m going to ask you something, Elide.”

“Shoot.” Elide leaned back in her chair, getting her defenses up.

“A few days ago, at the deli, you looked incredibly uncomfortable. More so than normal.”

Elide bit her lip, considering how best to answer this. “I guess I didn’t know Asterin was your sister.”

There was a pregnant pause as Elide realized that she had 1) basically admitted interest in Manon and 2) looked like a judgement bitch. “Um, I mean—”

“No,” said Manon evenly. “That’s not it. You were acting strange before she walked in.”

Elide felt tension rack up her shoulders. “Well…”

She couldn’t think of anything to say. Normally, she could talk her way out of anything, but this was really, really tough.

So, well, a version of the truth it was. Cause that had been working so well for her.

“So let’s just say someone told me some things about you that made me…wary of, um, forming a—well, wary of becoming more than strangers.”

“If it was Havilliard, they’re mostly true,” said Manon.

“It wasn’t.”

“Then what exactly did they tell you about me?”

Elide leaned her head back and screwed up her eyes. “They said you…you take a lot of women home. And then I found out the shoes were so expensive, and I thought you were trying—aah!”

Manon had pulled over the car in the most dangerous move Elide had ever seen outside a movie. At least four honks loudly protested. Manon hit her hazards on and swung around to face Elide.

“Do I look like someone who has to ply a person into sex?” she asked, low, dangerous.

Elide gripped her skirt for fortitude. “No, you don’t.”

“Exactly.” She leaned back in her seat, folding her arms. “Why on earth you would think…”

Ah, of course. Elide knew this one. She had been stupid for thinking that Manon was at all interested, was at all taken by her.

However, for the first time, Manon Blackbeak looked truly shaken. Still stoic, but Elide could tell by the way she couldn’t finish a sentence that she was actually thrown. Guilt seeped in.

“Elide,” said Manon, after composing herself. “First of all, no, I would never need to woo someone into sleeping with me. Yes, I do bring a lot of women home, but I don’t treat them nor my time with them lightly. Secondly, put my own morals aside. Though we have only known each other a short while, I cannot believe you truly thought I think so less of you, as to try and buy you off.”

She stuck her hands in the pockets of Manon’s coat, blushing up to her roots. The small mercy of a dark car was that Manon had no idea.

“I’m sorry,” said Elide. Manon opened her mouth, but Elide cut across. “No, I do owe you an apology. I didn’t mean to sound so judgmental of you, and I didn’t mean to automatically assume…what I did.”

“Apology accepted,” Manon turned her blinker on, and carefully slid back onto the road. “I know what my reputation is. I should have figured it got back to you.”

Elide’s fingers touched something cool and sleek in her pocket. She brought it out without thinking.

It was a card, a grey contemporary looking card engraved with the words, “I am and dead—or almost/I seem to me”.

“What is this?” she asked, totally forgetting it was rude to look at another person’s pockets.

“The card?” Manon chanced a quick look at it. “It’s personal.”

“Oh, sorry—”

“No, I mean it holds personal significance. It’s part of a poem I enjoy.”

Elide raised a brow at the card. “I should have figured you’re the type to read French poetry and—and know a lot about wine.”

Manon smiled. “It’s Greek, actually. What street?”

She told her. Manon’s fancy car stopped right in front of her dilapidated apartment building, practically a hair away from Harlem.

“This is a nice area,” Manon said, to Elide’s surprise.

“I agree,” Elide smiled. “It’s homey. There are communities here that have been here for decades, and they all seem happy.”

To her further surprise, Manon double parked and stopped the car. Elide looked at her.

“You’re not gonna open my door for me, are you?

“Please,” Manon drawled. “I’d hate for you to think I’m buying your affections with chivalry.”

“That was one hell of a sentence,” Elide said, getting out of the car. Manon followed, but it appeared, just to walk her to her doorstep. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Thank you for the ice sculpture.” She turned and headed back to her car, opening the driver’s seat door.

Elide turned to fumble with her key.

“Elide?”

Manon was half in her car, two very pale spots of pink in her cheeks. Elide couldn’t tell if it was blush or the weather.

“Yes?”

“You look very nice with your hair down,” said Manon, straight faced, before immediately ducking into her car.

Elide watched the sleek luxury vehicle peal off, at a loss for words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh if anyone cares Elide's Charity Ball dress is Sherri Hill 51822. That's such an old school ff.net thing to do. Love it.  
> The shoes are Vivers I dont have a model cause i cant go on the viver sit without combusting. They are such nice shoes.
> 
> Part three is also half written!!!! pray for me.


	3. Part 3: It was Sappho all along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Here. Ah, Vesta,” Manon steered her to a lovely woman with red hair mixing herself a drink. “This is Vesta, an old friend of mine. We grew up together. Vesta, this is Elide, my date.”
> 
> Elide went bright red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we OUT  
> /dab emoji
> 
> seriously thanks to everyone for their patience....god how did this get so long.

July was regularly the end of tax season, which meant that the first week was _very_ busy for all insurance companies, especially Havilliard  & Havilliard. Elide walked into the office and was greeted by a massive pile of work. She sighed, put her hair up, and went to town.

Dorian came in a half hour later, and he was in a positively sunny mood.

“Hello, everyone!” he called, despite the fact that it was only Elide in the office this morning.

She lifted a hand to wave, not looking up from her paperwork.

“El, you got home alright on Friday, right?”

“You called me like four times yesterday, Dorian, for the last time, it was _fine_.” She looked up, surreptitiously checking him for bandages. “And your injuries?”

“Oh, I’m positively ill.” said Dorian immediately.

Elide grinned. “And that’s what I’m supposed to say if a pretty EMT calls the office?”

“Yes, please. We’re having dinner tonight and I want to make sure she doesn’t cancel. She’s _so_ out of my league.” He ruffled her hair quickly, upsetting her already awful bun, and stalked into his office.

“Character development at last,” muttered Elide to herself. The Dorian of UPenn didn’t believe there was a single girl or dude out of his league. Maybe things would work out with this Sorscha girl.

They didn’t—rather, couldn’t—speak much for the rest of the day. Dorian was just as swamped as she was, and most of the office was bent-necked over their desks, just working away, taking calls.

Five o’ clock came and went, and the regulars left with tentative apologies to her. Elide normally stayed at least as long as Dorian did, and she _did_ have a lot to do.

At six-thirty, a familiar face knocked on the glass doors of H&H. Elide looked up, smiled, and beckoned them in.

“Come in, Salvaterre, but only for a while. I’m almost done with tax season work.”

Lorcan collapsed in a close chair. “God, I hate this month.”

“Tell me about it. You look more tired than normal.”

“I _am_ ,” said Lorcan dramatically. “Boss Lady’s in one hell of a mood today. She’s either shut up in her office or yelling at the rest of us if we dare disturb her.”

“Really?” Elide put her pen down. “What happened?”

He shrugged. “No clue. And she’s usually so composed that when she gets mad it’s like, cold mad. Scary mad. But she’s been terrifying the interns all day, E.”

“Huh,” said Elide, thinking hard.

There was a clatter from Dorian’s office. He emerged a second later, jacket off and shirt mostly undone. “El, I just spilled my coffee,” he said, dejected.

“It happens,” Elide said soothingly. Dorian at this time in July was like a toddler. “Go get some Clorox.”

He disappeared into the kitchen without even looking at Lorcan.

“Wow,” said Lorcan, eyebrows raised. “Can we switch bosses, or what?”

Elide stood up. “Are you going back up to Ironteeth?”

“Nah, the rest of them left like forty minutes ago, I’m heading home now. Just wanted to stop in,” He readjusted the bag over his shoulder. “You should leave too.”

“I will, as soon as I can,” said Elide, thinking. “Maybe I’ll just get Dorian some coffee and I’ll go. He doesn’t really need me right now.”

He clapped her hard on the shoulder. “Good. See you tomorrow?”

“Bye, Lor.”

Dorian padded back in as Lorcan left, a tall bottle of water in hand. Elide followed him into his office.

“Dorian, I’m going get some coffee, you want anything?”

He looked at her, eyes red rimmed. “Go home, El. I’m going to in a minute. Just take off.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Elide probably should have protested more, but she was out the door as fast as possible. She beelined for the Starbucks downstairs and, two drinks in hand, waited impatiently for the elevator back up.

Maybe this was a bad idea, she thought. Maybe she should just leave it alone, leave it for someone else to deal with.

But she still got in the elevator, and she still took it all the way up to Ironteeth’s floor.

There was no receptionist, no one at all visible from the glass doors. Elide gingerly pushed on open, balancing her drinks expertly in one hand.

Manon’s office was the only one with a light on. Steeling herself, Elide walked forward and raised her hand to knock. Her first instinct was the give a timid little rap, but well, that wasn’t the kind of assistant she was. She knocked thrice, hard.

There was no answer. Elide backed up a half step and glanced at the crack at the bottom of the doorway. There was _definitely_ someone in there. At least two lamps were on. She knocked again, four times now.

She heard a very suppressed swear, and then, “Enter.”

Feeling only a little triumphant, Elide pushed the door open.

“Hey,” she said before her words immediately dried up in her throat.

Manon wasn’t behind her desk. She was on the carpet, barefoot, her six inch heels placed neatly on the bookshelf behind her. Her hair was half loose from what may have been a bun at some point, and she was wearing the glasses again.

Somehow, this was worse than the dress. Like, a hundred times worse. Elide’s grip tightened on the door as she tried to compose herself, and then she pushed on.

“Elide,” said Manon, apparently shocked despite the calmness of her tone.

Elide swallowed. “Hey. I got you a coffee.”

She took a few steps into the room, letting the door swing closed, and placed Manon’s drink on the desk.

Manon looked at the drink, and then at Elide. “That’s…why would you do that?”

Elide raised an eyebrow. “Is it wrong to do something kind for you?” she quipped.

“Very funny,” Manon’s gaze softened behind the glasses. “This is nice, but I have a _very_ specific coffee order.”

“Really?” Elide folded her arms, trying to keep a smirk off her lips. “That’s a vanilla latte, two extra pumps of vanilla, soy milk, and Stevia instead of liquid sugar. Oh, and hold the foam.”

Manon’s jaw went slack. “Dear God, Elide.”

“Assistants talk,” said Elide, picking the cup back up and physically placing it into Manon’s hand. “I know this season is rough. Drink it.”

She turned to go, a little proud of how she had handled herself when Manon lightly touched her shoulder.

“Why don’t you stay for a while?” she asked, turning Elide around. “You have a coffee for yourself. And you’re right, the season’s tough and I think I need a break. Are you due back at Havilliard?”

Elide shook her head, smiling. “No. Sure, if you’re certain you can spare the time.”

“I’m sure.” Manon sat in one of the two chairs in front of her desk rather than behind it, and after a moment, Elide lowered herself into the other.

“I, um, I like the glasses, by the way,” said Elide.

Manon immediately took them off, as if just realizing she was still wearing them. “Oh, these aren’t anything.”

“They suit you,” Elide emphasized. “I mean, I assume this is as stressed as you look, ever—”

“I’m not stressed.”

Elide snorted. “Yeah, okay.” She looked over Manon’s desk, swarmed with paper, and reached over.

Manon leaned forward, placing two fingers on Elide’s chin and turning her head to face her. She was smiling. “I shouldn’t let you look at my accounts. You are, most technically, the enemy.”

“ _Please_ ,” Elide said, rolling her eyes. She reached over anyway, plucking a leather bound planner from the piles of paper. “This your day planner?”

Manon dropped her hand. “Yes.”

“You do it yourself?”

“No, Salvaterre does—” Manon cut off at the look of horror on Elide’s face. “What?”

“Um, just that I _know_ what Lorcan’s handwriting looks like?” She flipped open to a random page, and yes—illegible. “Manon, how the hell have you been doing this for so many years?”

“I hardly rely on the planner,” she admitted, shrugging nonchalantly. “I keep most of my appointments in my head.”

“No wonder you’re so stressed!”

“I’m _not_ stressed.” Manon’s hand flew up to her slightly unruly hair.

Elide extending a hand. “Give me your phone.”

“My phone?”

“Yes, Blackbeak, honestly. We’re getting you into the 21st century.”

Manon actually looked offended. “I have a smart watch. I own a Tesla,” she held up a hand at Elide’s immediate laughter. “I _own_ a Tesla, I do not drive one.”

“ _Phone_ , please.”

After a moment, Manon handed it over. Elide quickly and efficiently inputted her next week’s appointment in a calendar, and set up an alert system. Thank god she could read Lorcan’s writing so well.

“How did you get so good at this?”

“No clue,” said Elide, squinting at a particularly squiggly word. “I certainly didn’t go to school for it.”

“Really?” Manon sipped her coffee. “What did you, then?”

“Sciences. I wanted to be a biologist.”

“And now you’re…here?”

Elide’s mouth twisted. “Job market wasn’t very forgiving. Dorian offered me a job when things didn’t pick up, and well, I guess they never did.”

“But are you still applying?”

“No,” Elide said, sighing. “I guess I just…I have a good thing going at H&H.”

“But you _want_ to be a biologist. Present tense?”

“Present tense.”

Manon nodded. “Well, alright then. I may be able to help you.”

“No, Manon,” said Elide quickly. “I don’t need anything—”

“You know Abraxas is a client of ours.”

Elide stopped. Abraxas? Abraxas Pharmaceuticals?

“I could introduce you to their CEO,” Manon continued.  “He might be able to—”

She didn’t need to hear anymore. Elide put the phone down and grabbed Manon’s hand. “Please introduce me. Please.”

Manon looked down at their hands, and then back at Elide. “Of course.”

A flash of familiarity grasped Elide then, and she remembered grabbing Manon’s hand at the party few nights ago. She let her wrist go limp, dropping back down to her side. “Thanks.”

Perhaps sensing her discomfort, Manon sat down at her desk chair again, holding the coffee cup like a wine glass. “It’s no trouble.”

“Hold on a moment,” said Elide, frowning. “Sorry, _Abraxas Pharm_ is a client of yours?”

“Insider trading is a felony, Elide.”

Elide sat down across from her, rolling her eyes. “I’m not an insider. This doesn’t count.”

But something about the way Manon smiled made Elide rethink that. She dropped her gaze back down to Manon’s planner, running her fingers over engraved leather. “Oh,” said Elide, recognizing the words written across the back of the book. “This is that poem you like.”

“Yes, ah—” Manon’s hand reached halfway across the table, but quickly returned to her lap. “Yes, that’s the poem.”

Her finger traced each word, Elide’s lips sounding them out.

 

_He seems to me equal to gods that man_

_whoever he is who opposite you_

_sits and listens close_

_to your sweet speaking_

_and lovely laughing – oh it_

_puts the heart in my chest on wings_

_for when I look at you, even a moment, no speaking_

_is left in me_

_no: tongue breaks and thin_

_fire is racing under skin_

_and in eyes no sight and drumming_

_fills ears_

_And cold sweat holds me and shaking_

_grips me all, greener than grass_

_I am and dead – or almost_

_I seem to me._

 

She couldn’t have read something like this aloud. She couldn’t even imagine it. “It’s, um—” her voice seemed to fizzle out for a moment. “It’s lovely,” Elide looked back up, gently setting the planner back on the table. “Why this?”

Manon shrugged, but there was a tightness to her shoulders and a little flush in her cheeks. Enough for Elide to see that she was a little embarrassed. “It’s a very powerful image. An ideal, of sorts.”

“I suppose,” Elide picked up her own coffee (she took it black). “Who’s it by?”

The flush in Manon’s cheeks only grew. “I…you would make fun if you knew.”

That was almost enough to make Elide laugh. “Make fun? Of _you?_ ”

“You know what?” Manon yanked her hair tie out of her bun, shaking her silver hair. “I’ll set up a meeting. A dinner party. But for now, Elide…”

“You should get back to work,” Elide finished, standing. She smiled. “Thanks. Again.”

“Thank _you_ for the coffee.”

* * *

 

Much later, she wondered why she had no problem with accepting Manon’s offer. Dorian could have introduced her to some sort of pharm company years ago, maybe. He offered. He hadn’t offered for quite some time, true, but Elide was sure if she asked, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Or Aelin, or Nehemia, or half of the other powerful people she knew well.

She didn’t ask because she owed too much to them already. When her accident raked up the hospital bills, it was Aelin and Aedion who came to her rescue. When she needed someone to keep her calm and sane in college, it was Dorian and Nehemia who looked after her mental and physical health. The monetary cost of supporting her was something Elide knew she could never repay Aelin, and that was something that weighed on her every day.

So of course she reacted badly to being gifted expensive things. Of course she wouldn’t let Dorian buy her a dress or Manon buy her heels.

But this this with Abraxas?

Maybe this was a sign she was finally ready to stop being someone’s assistant.

* * *

 Dorian texted her the next morning that he wasn’t going to be coming in. Elide saw this message after taking two steps into the building, and immediately swung back around, stepping back out on to the street.

She called him. Surprisingly, Dorian actually picked up.

“Hey, El.”

“Are you okay?” Elide stood awkwardly by the glass doors, her free hand on her hip. Dorian hadn’t taken a day off in quite some time. In fact, one of the missives she had received from Rosamund after she started was a quick warning that if Dorian ever took off in the middle of the week, it might mean something bad.

And well, she knew him in college. Frat parties and all.

“I’m alright,” said Dorian quickly, sighing.

Elide was unconvinced. “Dorian...”

“I know getting in other folk’s business is your hobby, but-’

“You pay me, actually,” she said without any heat. She recognized that tone. Dorian was _sad_ , melancholy. Something had happened. “Where are you?”

“Home,” said Dorian. “I said I was fine, by the way, in case you missed it.”

Elide stopped, midway through flagging a taxi. “I’ll be right--um, I mean, let me call you back.”

“Uh, sure.”

She hung up, pressing her phone to her chest. Her first instinct was of course to go to him, see if he was okay. But then again, Elide wasn’t sure if she was the best person for the job here. She didn’t...she didn’t know his fears and his life anymore.

Elide took a step back from the curb and dialed another number. If she couldn’t help, she at least knew people who could.

“Hello?”

She smiled. He had picked up on the first ring, despite how groggy his voice sounded. “Chaol? It’s Elide.”

“Oh, El, hey,” Chaol’s voice was much more alert now. “Hey, Aedion, wake up, your cousin’s on the phone. Everything alright?”

Chaol was Dorian’s best friend, but that wasn’t the context that Elide knew him in. She had met him, despite hearing countless stories about him from Dorian all through college, when Aedion joined the police academy. His and Chaol’s unlikely romance was the stuff of legend, especially considering that Chaol and Aelin had an equally volatile start to their own relationship some years previous.

But Aedion, unlike Aelin, stuck. She even took the news rather well. Aelin, over the years, had become exceptionally good at creating lasting friendships with ex’s.

“With me, yes,” said Elide. “I’m calling about our mutual charge, however. He’s called out of work.”

“On a Tuesday? In _tax season_?”

Elide beamed. It was so nice talking to someone who understood Dorian’s quirks just as well as she did. “Exactly.”

“Hm. I’ll check in on him as soon as possible. Thank for letting me know, El.”

“Any day, You’re doing me a favor, honestly.”

“Please,” said Chaol, but she could hear the smile in his words. “Oh, here’s Aedion.”

Her cousin’s voice filled the receiver. “Babe, I love you, but can’t you call at a regular human time?”

“It’s seven, Aedion, that is a human time,” said Elide. “My _sincerest_ apologies.”

“Don’t get sarcastic with me now, Lochan. Where the hell have you been? You haven’t been seen at a Sunday family night in _months_.”

“Right. It’s been busy lately, I guess.” Elide lied.

Aedion knew it, but he wasn’t the type to push. “El, it’ll do you some good to get out of that office, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...” he sighed, and Elide groaned. Aedion was the more perceptive of her two cousins when it came to people, but she hated it when he used those skills against her. “I mean you spend all your time with Havilliard, or thinking about Havilliard. And even when you do go out, find relationships, you managed to snag someone who works in the same building.”

“Aedion-”

“And spending time with Dorian is fine, El, I know someone who does it all the time. But you don’t...you treat him like he’s your boss _all_ the time.”

“He is my boss,” insisted Elide. “ _All_ the time. I don’t know what you expect from me, Aedion.”

“Nothing,” said Aedion quickly. “Okay. You know Aelin and I want you to have the best life possible, right? And we know that you need to find your own way and won’t benefit from us constantly telling you to like, spread your wings and whatever. But, well...”

Elide wrapped an arm around her stomach. “Aedion, I have to go.”

“Okay,” said her cousin, knowing full well that Elide was simply deflecting. “Promise I’ll see you Sunday?”

“I--I can’t promise that.”

There was a long pause. “Alright, Elide. Just...take care.”

“Bye,” she whispered, a little hoarse. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She hung up first, shoving her phone back into her pocket quickly and turning to face the rising sun. Her Macy’s heels caught on the stones, but held strong as she stalked back into the office.

Chaol texted her some hours later, after lunch.

**Chaol [1:06] He’s okay. His dad called from prison this morning and he didn’t take it well. Can you spare him for a few days?**

**Chaol [1:06] He says sorry**

**Elide [1:10] Tell him not to worry about it. I’ll take care of everything. Thanks.**

**Chaol [1:11] Thank YOU.**

She turned her phone over, sighing. Dorian had it rough enough.

* * *

Later than evening, Manon Blackbeak made good on her promise. Elide received a hand delivered invitation to a dinner party at the Blackbeak residence on Thursday evening. It’s black, with little silver detailing. Just looking at it made her smile.

On the back of the card was a handwritten note:

_thought about handing this to you myself, but didn’t want to cause gossip among the lower floors. thank you for the coffee. kindly keep my order to yourself, as my own assistant wasn’t able to. text me._

_MB_

Her phone number was scribbled below.

Elide imputed it in her phone, still smiling like a fool.

**Elide [6:58] Hey, it’s Elide.**

Two minutes later, her phone rang.

She stared at the incoming call in shock, noting the number--Manon had said _text_ her, _text,_ not call! What on earth was she thinking? She couldn’t honestly expect her to actually answer it. Afte _two_ harrowing phone calls today, Elide couldn’t, she _couldn’t_ handle listening to Manon’s voice without any visuals to ground her.

Predictably, it stopped ringing. Elide waited, holding her breath, but Manon didn’t call again. Her phone did buzz, however, with the notification of a new voicemail.

Well, a voicemail couldn’t be that bad. She wasn’t expected to respond in real time to a voicemail. Fingers still shaking slightly, Elide unlocked her phone and hit play.

 _“Elide,”_ came Manon’s voice, just as low and dark as it always was, sensuality somehow magnified by her phone’s awful audio quality. _“I see you weren’t expecting me to call. I was simply...I was just checking in. I’ll be out of the office for a few days, so if you require anything feel free to call. I’ll see you Thursday.”_

Elide lowered the phone, biting back a smile. Ignoring the call had been objectively dumb, but she was glad she did it if it meant she had a voicemail to play over and over again until Thursday’s dinner party.

Just checking in. There had been no purpose for that call really, and even to Elide’s minimal experience--did this mean Manon had simply wanted to _talk_?

* * *

Despite Dorian’s earlier ribbing, Elide did have a few cocktail dresses suitable for a dinner party, even one hosted by a Blackbeak. Three, in fact, the most flattering of which Elide hardly wore. It did amazing things to her figure, but sometimes in business, especially being Dorian Havilliard’s secretary, that wasn’t the kind of attention she wanted to attract.

But this was the dress she chose to wear to Manon’s. Her brain made her pick up a shawl so that she wasn’t baring her entire collarbone to the director of Abraxas Pharm. She left her hair down, and wore very little makeup.

Manon lived on the other side of the city, near Gramercy Park. It was a rich and artsy part of town, one Elide had only been _near_ twice, and that was because there was a great 99 cent pizza place close by. She had to take a cab even, Manon apparently didn’t live close to a subway entrance.

Her apartment complex had a doorman, one who greeted her by name. He waved Elide through, nodding to the man who worked the elevator to take her up to the penthouse.

The _penthouse_. Really. Elide had no shame about the place she lived and how she lived, but she wondered what Manon had thought of her tiny apartment building on the borderline of a not so great neighborhood...

She said it was nice. She said it was a nice part of the city.

The elevator doors opened directly into the penthouse, which was tastefully decorated and almost identical to Manon’s office. A man to the side took Elide’s shawl and bag, which left her hands uncomfortably free and her clavicle awfully cold. Elide smoothed down her hair quickly, shaking off nerves.

It was a tasteful array of people, some as young as her, but most much older gathered in what had to be Manon’s living room. Elide stepped forward as a hand gently touched her back and then immediately retracted, as if surprised to find contact with bare skin.

Oh yeah. The dress was  mostly backless.

Elide turned to find her host at her side. She bit back a smile. “Hello, Manon.”

Manon didn’t smile either, but there was something in her eyes that made Elide very pleased with her choice of attire. Manon wasn’t wearing a dress at all, but rather tight dress slacks and a loose, lownecked blouse, an effortless yet formal look. “Hello, Elide. Drink?”

“Please.”

She let Manon lead her to a bar fixture and pour her a whiskey. She hadn’t even asked what Elide wanted.

At her raised eyebrow, Manon slid her the glass. “You didn’t seem to much like all the champagne at the charity ball,” she explained, pouring one for herself. “And I figured I’d take a chance. Payback for the coffee.”

Elide took a small sip, a warmth that had nothing to do with the alcohol filling her belly. “You’re observant.”

“So I was correct?”

She nodded. “I hardly ever drink, but I never drink clear liquor. Or champagne.”

“That’s good to know,” said Manon, angling herself so she was _just_ in Elide’s personal space. She then quickly took Elide’s arm and spun her around to face the other dinner guests. “Let’s make the rounds. Perrington isn’t here yet, but he will be.”

And so Elide was introduced to a whole slew of New York’s upper crust.

“This is Asterin, my cousin--you’ve met, she runs Planned Parenthood’s team of lawyers. Ghislaine, also a lawyer, she knows _your_ cousin. Fenrys and Connal, executors at the firm. Darrow, he owns the city’s largest building company...oh, of course, Petrah Blueblood, she works with Asterin--”

While Manon took the time to briefly introduce everyone’s occupation and relationship to her, she introduced Elide with none of that. “This is Elide Lochan,” she’d say, and that would be it.

“Are you worried people will know you’ve brought a H&H employee to a party?” Elide asked quietly. She was mostly joking, but well, that was the reality their insurance firms existed under.

Manon smiled. “Of course not. If that mattered, I wouldn’t have--” she cut herself off, laughing. “Would you like me to expand a bit?”

“Well...”

“Here. Ah, Vesta,” Manon steered her to a lovely woman with red hair mixing herself a drink. “This is Vesta, an old friend of mine. We grew up together. Vesta, this is Elide, my date.”

Elide went bright red. Her _what?_

Manon didn’t even look at her. She was just as straight faced as ever. Vesta looked from Manon’s blank expression down to Elide, who resembled a tomato, and grinned slowly.

“Nice to meet ‘cha.”

“I--” Elide shut her mouth. “Mh hm.”

“Oh, there’s Perrington. Just a moment, Ves.” Manon pressed a hand against Elide’s back once more and turned to steer her to the door, where a tall man in black had just entered.

Elide found her tongue. “Your _what?_ ” she said, gripping onto Manon’s arm tightly.

“Hm?” Manon glanced at her, still blank faced, but Elide could practically sense the enjoyment she was getting out of this situation.

“Oh, you heard me!”

“And you heard me,” Manon flashed a grin at Perrington, who they had now reached. “Good to see you, Perrington. Elide, this is the director of Abraxas Pharmaceuticals. And this is Elide, my--”

“Nice to meet you,” said Elide quickly, extending a hand. She couldn’t possibly hear it again, not if she was supposed to have a human conversation with someone who could change her career.

Perrington shook her hand, giving both of them deep nods. “And you. I was surprised, Ms. Blackbeak, at your invitation. We haven’t seen each other in some time.”

“Since the UNICEF fundraiser, yes,” Manon nodded. “But it is good to keep in contact. Please, make yourself a drink. We’ll sit for dinner soon.”

They watched him go, Elide still clinging to Manon’s arm. As soon as he was out of earshot, she spun to face her. “Manon--”

Perhaps Manon sensed the edge in her voice, because she nodded. “Come here.”

She pulled Elide through a hallway to the side, bypassing the already set dining table and heading into the kitchen. There was a team of what looked like professionals bustling around, finalizing dinner. Manon gestured for Elide to follow her to a secluded corner by a second fridge.

“Well?”

Elide swelled up, folding her arms. “What on earth do you mean?”

“When I called you my date?” Manon mirrored her. “Exactly what I said.”

“I can’t...I can’t _be_ your date if you never asked me. Or discussed it with me at all.” She huffed out a breath, suddenly unable to look Manon in the eye.

“I thought my intentions were made clear.”

Elide laughed. “By _what?_ ”

As soon as she said it, she remembered. The shoes, the charity ball, the ride home, the offer to further her career--Elide sighed, pressing a hand to her temple. She looked up, and Manon was suddenly at least two steps closer, eyebrows raised. She had to crane her neck to look up at her.

“Okay, fair,” said Elide, hands up in a gesture of surrender. She tried to take a step back, but just ended up flush against the fridge. Manon closed the minimal space between them once more immediately. “Um...fair, but you shouldn’t have just...I mean, I was obviously taken aback. Should’ve said it to me first.”

Manon shrugged, bracing a hand against the fridge, effectively blocking out Elide’s peripherals of the outside world. “I like surprising you.”

She leaned in, but Elide surprised herself by gently pressing her hand on Manon’s sternum, keeping distance between them. “Wait.”

Manon’s already arched brow arched up a little more.

Elide pressed her lips together, looking up at Manon. She thought she’d feel more embarrassed, more flustered, but surprisingly, knowing that Manon was just as into her as she was into Manon sorta evened the playing field. So it was easy to smile up at her. “You’ve got about twenty people in the other room. You’re _hosting_.”

Manon grinned back. “Yes, and?”

“And about ten more in here, like literally you have kitchen staff right here--” Elide laughed as Manon placed her open palms against the edge of her face, blocking her peripherals entirely.

“Where?” she asked, leaning forward once more. Elide’s hand against her chest turned to fist the cloth of her shirt. “I don’t see anyone but you.”

“Oh my _god_.”

But before Elide could drag Manon down, a tiny crash from the other room startled them apart. Elide pushed off one of Manon’s hands, turning to the source.

The kitchen staff had all frozen as well, but the noise had definitely come from the main living room. A heartbeat later, Asterin pushed open the kitchen door, eyes searching for Manon. She nodded quickly some sort of nonverbal communication passing between the cousins, and left the room as quickly as she had come.

Manon cleared her throat, letting go of Elide, eyes fixed on the door. “Come on.”

They headed out, Elide’s practicality refusing to let her feel disappointment. The quick journey to the living room, a half step behind Manon, revealed the source of the crash--a flushed Dorian Havilliard and a stack of broken crystal glasses.

“Dorian?” Elide blurted out, unable to keep the surprise and concern out of her voice. She started towards him.

When he looked up however, and saw her, the look in his eyes was enough to stop in her tracks. Dorian’s eyes were rimmed in red, his cheeks flushed with alcohol, and he looked at Manon, behind her, with a kind of poison Elide didn’t even know was possible for him. And then his gaze traveled to her, to the dress she wore and her proximity to Manon Blackbeak, and his eyes went cold.

“Oh,” said Dorian. “That makes sense.”

“What?” said Elide, resuming her pace and dropping her voice--she didn’t want the rest of the guests hearing them. “Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

“I was invited.” said Dorian coldly.

“You didn’t tell her?” asked Manon, who Elide realized was just a step behind her. “Havilliard, this was a courtesy invite, not an excuse to show up drunk.”

Manon had kept her voice equally low, and Elide felt a surge of gratitude to her for not creating a scene.

“You were...he was out of the office.” said Elide lamely.

Dorian turned to her. “I’m guessing this is the person in the building, right? The one I asked about?”

“Woah, Dorian,” Elide reached out a hand to steady him. “I...I should get you out of here, come on.”

“No,” he snapped, looking back at Manon. “Courtesy invite, huh? This is low, Blackbeak. I just came to see if it was true. I have. I’ll be off now, and alone, Lochan. I don’t need you to escort me.”

Color was rising to her cheeks. “Hey--” Elide started, because even Dorian didn’t get to talk to her like that. But he was already gone, already at the elevator, and Manon touched her arm.

“Let him go,” she said.

“It’s not like him.” said Elide, gaze still fixing on the closing elevator doors. Why would he be so upset? Yes, he’d be a little mad that she hadn’t told him about Manon, but that was because there was very little to tell that wasn’t all in her head. Until now. But he wouldn’t be _so_ upset. It must be the combination of this and his father’s involvement.

Manon turned to the room as a whole, clapping her hands together in attention. “If everyone will proceed to the dining room, dinner is about to be served,” she looked down at Elide. “Are you going to be alright?”

Elide nodded. She still had to speak to Perrington.

She had been seated between Perrington and Manon at dinner, and spent most of it in deep conversation with the director. Thankfully, she had done some undergraduate research that was pertinent to a drug Abraxos was working on. She had even interned at Morath, a company Perrington had also bankrolled.

“So why haven’t we seen you in the world of biology research lately?” he asked. “All the researchers know each other, I’ve found.”

Elide gave a tight smile. “Job market wasn’t great a few years ago, and I found myself in an alternate career. Science will always be my first love, however.”

Perrington leaned forward. “You know, we’re looking for a new research analyst.”

“Are you?” she asked innocently.

He laughed, glanced at Manon. “She’s a sharp one, alright.”

Manon nodded. “Of course.”

“I hear business on your end is going well,” said Perrington, pouring himself some more wine. He offered to bottle to Elide, who shook her head. “What was that I heard about some merger?”

“Ah,” Manon gave a wry smile. “You aren’t the first to ask tonight about that, but yes, we’re in talks.”

“And Havilliard’s old man actually agreed? Going over that kid’s head was a risky move.”

Elide dropped her silverware, going cold. 

Manon wasn’t looking at her. “It was what it was.”

“I’m sorry,” said Elide in a loud, high, false voice. “Which merger was this?”

She caught the attention of Asterin, who was seated across from her. “ _ You _ didn’t know? Our companies--”

“He didn’t tell you?” asked Manon quietly. “No, of course, he was out of the office.”

“ _ You _ didn’t tell me,” Elide turned to her, without making eye contact, and spoke so lowly no one else could hear. “Are you bullying my boss into merging companies?”

Going to Havilliard Sr. was perhaps the only way to shake Dorian up. And if Manon had done something like that...Elide clenched her hands under the table, keeping her face neutral. 

Manon was quiet for a long time. “Elide, it’s just--”

“Business.” Elide took her napkin off her lap and lay it across the table. “I’m so sorry, it looks like I’ll have to make an early night of it.”

“That’s too bad,” said Perrington mildly. “Contact my office on Monday, by the way, let’s see if we can continue our discussion.”

“Of course!” said Elide. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“Elide--” started Manon once more.

“Good night.” said Elide, perhaps too sharply. She rushed out of the room, reclaimed her shawl and bag, and headed downstairs, heart beating out of her chest. 

She needed to find Dorian. 

* * *

 

The doorman in Dorian’s building knew her so well he tried to make small talk before realizing Elide was not in the mood.

She resolved to apologize later, but it was very low on her list of priorities.

Something about the way Dorian had looked at her tonight spoke of betrayal. Was it just because of her involvement with Manon Blackbeak? Or he did really suspect she had something to do with this business deal?

She took the stairs two at a time until she reached his floor. Dorian had disconnected his doorbell years ago, so Elide was stuck with pounding on the door until she heard movement. 

Dorian opened the door, looking even worse for wear that earlier that night. He had changed into a bathrobe that Elide bought him for Christmas two years ago. 

“What?” he snapped. “Party finish up early?”

“I didn’t know.” Elide said.

After a long pause, he stepped aside. Elide pushed past him into the mess of his apartment, dropping her shawl. 

Dorian raised his eyebrows at her. “Damn, Elide. You really did dress up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, frustration leaking in. “I never would have...why didn’t you say?”

“Why didn’t  _ I _ tell  _ you _ ?” Dorian gesture between them incredulously. “Why didn’t you tell me you were screwing Manon Blackbeak?”

Elide pointed at him, a warning gesture. “Hey. Watch your tone. And I’m not screwing her, we haven’t even...I would never have agreed to come tonight if I knew she was behind that thing with your dad.  _ Which _ Chaol told me,” she stressed, because he was looking at her with an accusatory sort of glare. 

“How am I supposed to know that?” he challenged. “Christ, Elide, how long has this been going on? Did you  _ tell _ her anything?”

“I can’t believe you would  _ ever _ think I could do something like that,” Elide shook her head. “Dorian I’m at least a professional. Sure. Maybe I should have told you I was feeling something for our biggest competitor, but God, what on earth do I owe you? You’ve never cared about my personal life before, how could I think you’d care now?”

“A professional? A  _ professional _ , is that seriously what you’re saying to me? Yes, I expect a little distance between me and my employees, but my  _ friends? _ My friends I do actually expect to know what goes on in their life, especially if it contains someone we both know.”

Elide threw her hands up in the air. “Dorian, we’re not friends! We’re not! We haven’t been close in  _ years _ .”

This seemed to shake him. Dorian stared at her incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

“Think about college,” sighed Elide, gesturing between them. “You think this would have happened when we were friends, in college? Somewhere along the way you became my boss and I became your employee, and no matter how okay we are with each other, it’s nothing like real friendship. And this was both of our faults, maybe, we both distanced ourselves, but it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t owe you to tell you what’s going on in my life.”

Dorian turned away, hands fisting in his hair. “If we’re not friends, Elide, then what the hell are you doing here?”

_ I wanted to see if you were okay _ .

Elide pressed her lips together, close to tears for the first time in years. “I swear to God, I didn’t know about Manon. I’m not going to see her again. Consider this my two weeks, Dorian.”

“What?”

“My two weeks notice.” Elide started towards the door. “If this is really where we’re at, we shouldn’t have a professional relationship either. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m taking the day off,” said Dorian tonelessly.

“Okay,” said Elide after a pause. She waited, but he seemed done, so she left, somehow feeling worse than when she had come in.

* * *

  
He really didn’t show up.

Manon did, however, but Elide wouldn’t see her. She had an intern sit at her desk while she enclosed herself in Dorian’s office, and despite the intern’s increasingly frightened tone, she kept telling him to say she was busy. 

Looking at the paperwork and faxes that kept arriving for Dorian, Elide saw that it was no hoax. Blackbeak Inc. was making a play for H&H. They had contacted Havilliard Sr. in prison to speak to him about it, and while he was very against the sale, the rest of the Board of Directors had either been swayed or bullied by Manon’s people. 

That was why Dorian had stayed home. His father called from prison to urge against the sale, and there were a hundred things behind the scenes with shareholders Dorian needed to do to make sure his father’s people couldn’t influence them into selling. Elide did her best to keep them all at bay until four o’ clock that evening, when the calls finally stopped coming in. It was a Friday, after all.

Elide left early, because it was the best way to avoid Manon. She’d never leave before five, never. 

Lorcan called her a few times that evening, confused and concerned, but she just texted him that she was fine and that she was spending the weekend in. Honestly? She didn’t want to deal with anyone, Ironteeth or Havilliard.

At about six on Saturday evening, there was a knock on her door. 

Elide was in joggers, a tank top, and one of Aedion’s old hoodies. She was not prepared for company. But in case it was the landlord finally coming up to fix her shower, she opened the door.

It wasn’t the landlord. 

Dorian Havilliard, in  _ jeans _ , stood at her door, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Hey,” said Elide in surprise.

“Hi,” Dorian said awkwardly. He jerked his head at her door. “Can I...”

She stepped aside. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

He stepped into her tiny apartment, taking notice of it’s general lack of decor, and took a seat at the kitchen (only) table. “You, uh...you okay?”

A tiny bit of ice around her heart started to melt. Elide sat down at the table with him. “Why do you ask?”

“I stopped by the office,” Dorian explained. “The shareholders were giving you a lot of shit yesterday, yeah?”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t bad.”

“Shit,” Dorian screwed up his eyes. “I didn’t want to talk about work. That’s not why I’m here.” 

“Dorian...”

“I’m sorry, okay?” He put his face in his hands. “You’re right. We’re weren’t friends. I don’t know when it changed, but we weren’t friends. I just didn’t want to believe it. E, you were  _ so _ important to me in college.”

Elide reached out to touch his hand. “I know,” she said. 

“You’re still important to me, I just...I know this is my fault. I relied on you too much. I should never have asked you to work for me if I wanted to stay friends.”

“Dorian, I’ m grateful you gave me a job,” Elide said quickly. She scooted closer to him. “I’m so grateful. I would’ve been homeless in a month if you hadn’t. But I need to move on.”

“I know,” said Dorian, to her surprise. “I’m not here to ask you to stay. You got a lead somewhere?”

She nodded. “Abraxas.”

Dorian paused. “Blackbeak?”

“Yeah.”

Once more to her surprise, Dorian didn’t take the time to badmouth Manon. Instead, he only looked more upset with himself. “If I wasn’t such a dumbass, I could’ve been looking for science jobs for you years ago.” 

“I never asked.”

He looked at her incredulously. “You never should’ve had to.”

Elide shook her head. “You want something to drink?” 

“I’ll take it.”

She poured them both a mug of ten dollar wine. They used to get wine drunk all the time in school. Dorian accepted his with a small smile. 

“Elide, I don’t think I can stand to have you out of my life again,” he said, staring at the contents of his mug.

“What does that mean?”

Dorian looked at her. “I think we need to be friends. Good ones. Sunday brunch friends. If you want.”

Elide took a long drink to hide her stinging eyes from him. “Okay,” she said voice muffled by the mug. “Sounds good.”

“Yeah?”

“Totally.” 

Dorian leaned back. A small change filtered over the atmosphere. It was always a power he had--Dorian could make the whole world feel easier, lighter, with just a breath. “Babe,” he said, and Elide laughed at the old identifier. “We need to talk about Manon Blackbeak.”

She sobered. “I told you I wasn’t gonna see her anymore.”

“Alright,” said Dorian. “But do you want to?”

Elide pointed at him weakly. “That’s not a fair question.”

“Blackbeak is...objectively hot,” said Dorian, though it was a struggle to force that out. “But that’s never been an issue for you. That Lorcan guy was hot.  _ You’re _ hot. It’s not like she’s hotter than you.”

“Um, are you  _ blind _ ?”

“Are you?” he countered, rolling his eyes. “Listen, these talks with Ironteeth have been going on for months, apparently. My father decided to enlighten me to that little fact. The shareholders that have been going behind my back are gonna be dealt with. But what I’m saying is that there’s no way she like, pretended she was into you for this or anything.”

“No, I didn’t...I didn’t think so,” admitted Elide. “She never asked me anything about the company. But I did think that maybe, maybe she was just doing it to stick it to you.”

Dorian looked at her for a long time. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What makes you so sure?” asked Elide, smiling bitterly. 

“Cause when I left, when I was making a scene at her party, I saw how she was looking at you. She was more worried about you than the mess I was making of her dinner.” Dorian smiled. “You can’t fake something like that. Manon Blackbeak doesn’t do feelings and she doesn’t get attached. Except, apparently, the other night.”

Elide shook her head, eyes to the ceiling. “It’s never gonna happen, Dorian. I’m pretty sure I blew it too.”

“By leaving to find me?”

She snorted. “She practically set the whole party up for me, and I blew her off.”

“For me?”

“Shut up.”

Dorian drained his mug. “How’d you even meet her anyway?”

So she told him everything, from the falling to the shoes to, well, everything. It was so relieving to finally get it out to someone, especially someone who knew the both of them. And Dorian was a good audience, gasping at the right times, and debating the meaning of every action Manon took with her. 

When she was done, Dorian looked pensive. “I need to tell you something?”

“What?” she asked, throat dry from speaking so much.

“I’m selling.”

The wine sloshed out of Elide’s mug and onto her sweats. “ _ What? _ ”

Dorian shrugged. “Yup. I’m selling.”

“Why? Why on earth would you sell?”

“Uh, maybe cause I fuckin’ hate this company?” Dorian smiled at her, sheepishly. “It’s my father’s playground. His legacy. And if that wasn’t good enough reason to let Manon Blackbeak tear it down, there’s also the general dissatisfaction with my own life I’ve been feeling.”

He stood up, swaying slightly. “I could do more, El. Like, so much more. I want to start from the ground up, not under my father’s name, but my own.”

Elide bit her lip. She raised her mug. “I’m proud of you.”

She missed him.

He slept on her couch that night, exhausted and drunk off cheap wine, and Elide went to bed happier than she had been in a while.

* * *

Monday morning arrived quickly, and Elide was immediately tasked with searching for not only her replacement, but Dorian’s. Dorian was in a meeting all morning, probably finalizing the merger, but he still texted her :/ emojis every now and then.

He emerged at noon, looking exhausted. “Hey,” said Dorian, nodding at her. “Can you do me a favor?”

“What’s up?” asked Elide.

“I got a potential CFO in the conference room, and I want your thoughts. Can you do a pre-interview for me?” 

“Sure,” Elide said, cracking her neck. She honestly liked interviewing people. She could be mean to them. 

She picked up a legal pad and headed over to their large conference room. However, the second she pulled the door open, she realized exactly what a mistake befriending Dorian was.

Sitting at the head of the conference table was Manon Blackbeak, wearing her glasses and an honest to god cardigan. Elide froze.

Manon stood. “Elide,” she said formally.

Slowly, Elide shut the door behind her. “I don’t suppose you’re interviewing for CFO?”

Manon snorted. “Of course not.”

“Right.” Elide turned to leave, but Manon once again proved just how fast she was. She took Elide’s hand quickly, pulling her away from the door. 

“Havilliard said you wanted to talk.” she said softly.

Elide shook her head. “Well, that’s news to me.”

Manon bit back a smile. “He said you may not know it, but you wanted to talk. Sit?”

Despite her best judgement, Elide let Manon lead her over to the chairs and sit her down. Manon remained standing. 

“I think I do owe you an apology,” she started. “For not disclosing what I meant for this company.”

Elide nodded, but she knew that wasn’t fair. “I was scared you started...this...to mess with Dorian.”

“Do you remember what I told you the night of the charity ball?” Manon asked. She knelt down on the carpet, hands on Elide’s thighs. “I don’t take these things lightly. And I certainly don’t take  _ you _ lightly.”

“Okay,” said Elide, voice catching slightly. She couldn’t look Manon in the eyes, and wondered if that was just going to be a staple of their relationship. “I mean, God, I think I’ve been pretty dense throughout this whole thing, so I’m sorry, but I’m gonna need you to be real clear about what you want this to be, cause--”

Manon rose up and kissed her, hands coming up to cradle her face. Elide clung to her, standing so Manon wasn’t crouched to kiss her, but Manon just wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the conference table, other hand still tangled in her hair. She must have intended this to be softer than it was, but Elide pulled Manon in by the waist until they were flush, licking into her mouth possessively until she felt Manon’s grip tighten. 

Manon pulled away first, which was not surprising considering that Elide had resolved to be kissing Manon Blackbeak until she died. She leaned her forehead against Elide, breathing harder than Elide had ever seen her.

“Okay,” Manon echoed, voice quite affected. “Alright.”

“Hey,” said Elide lightly. “Did you wear the glasses on purpose? You’d have to be denser that I am to not realize I thought they were super hot.”

Manon grinned wolfishly, adjusting the frames. “Maybe.”

“That’s fair.” said Elide, pulling her in once more. “The cardigan gave it away.” 

“A girl’s got to try,” Manon whispered against her mouth. “God knows you’re worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sappho wrote the poem. can you fuckin believe it. is anyone as gay as manon blackbeak
> 
> im cosmicrhetoric on tumblr, come say hey!!

**Author's Note:**

> yeah....  
> im cosmicrhetoric on tumblr, come say hey!


End file.
